


If the Morning Star Be Not Shining

by Jellyfish_Tacos



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fantasy, Geese, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Magic, Non-Consensual Haircuts, Rapunzel Elements, Russian Mythology, farming, goose girl, prince - Freeform, rapunzel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12719472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfish_Tacos/pseuds/Jellyfish_Tacos
Summary: Viktor's father keeps him locked away in a tower as punishment for being so carefree, but Viktor dreams only of the freedom to choose his own path. When he reaches adulthood his father sends him off to be married to a foreign prince, but Viktor never really was good at doing what he was told...(Goose Girl AU)





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> For Day One of Yuri on Ice Fantasy Week. The prompt I chose was red.

Each stroke of the brush sounded like a wave lapping against the sand and then retreating. That's what Viktor pictured, his mind painting the image of the gentle caress of the tide. His mother’s voice was always so soothing, like calm seas, even when she was reprimanding him. 

“Vitya, your father told me what you did today.” Viktor's eyes widened, and he let out a little “eep” sound. His mother chuckled, soft and low. “You know you shouldn't sneak off, my star.” Viktor pursed his lips.

“I know.” He stared into the flames, watching how its glow flickered golden on his skin. 

“Your lessons are very important.” Her tone was light, but Viktor knew that she was being serious. He felt guilty, and looked over his shoulder back at her.

“I'm sorry, Mommy.” She laughed again, gently guiding his head back so that he was facing forward again. 

“It's alright, my star. Please, just remember that you will be tsar someday, and you must be prepared.” In his head, Viktor pictured his father. He was so strong and brave, like nothing could get to him. He wanted to be just like him, and so he nodded. 

“Hold still, please.” His mother was parting his hair into sections so that she could braid it. “All done,” she announced as she tied a ribbon on the end. Viktor bounced up, feeling the plait thump against his back. He kneeled on the bed and hugged his mother. 

Thank you, Mommy.” She smiled, her warm eyes crinkling in the corners, and embraced him back. “Can I do your hair now?” Viktor asked excitedly. His mother raised one eyebrow, and he laughed and laughed. “Pleeease.”

“Well, alright.” She handed him the brush, then turned around and pushed her hair over her shoulder. It was the same color as Viktor's, silver as a fancy spoon or perhaps the moon. The strands glittered in the firelight. It was very, very long, at her knees when she was standing. When Viktor was all grown up, he wanted his hair to be like that. 

He was very careful when he was brushing so that he didn't pull too hard. He stuck out his tongue in concentration as he did the plait. He tried his very best, really, but the end result wasn't nearly as pretty as when his mom did braids. Still, he was proud of the braid, with one section far thinner than the others and loops of hair sticking out at odd angles. 

His mother gave him a silky red ribbon, and he tied it in a knot at the bottom of the plait. (He didn't know how to do bows yet.) Smiling at his magnum opus, Viktor slid the braid back over his mother’s shoulder. 

“Wow!” she exclaimed as she examined it. “You're learning so fast!” Viktor grinned, pleased with himself. His mother turned to face him again and kissed his forehead. “Very good, Vitya.” She leaned in closer, as if to tell him a big secret. “It's getting late,” she whispered. “It's time for little stars to be heading off to sleep.” 

“But the stars shine more brightly at night!” 

“That is because they are dreaming,” Viktor's mother explained with a smile. “They glimmer when they're having lovely dreams.”

“What about the morning star?” 

“The morning star watches over all the other little stars while they sleep to make sure that they are safe. She waits until all the stars are awake before dimming her guiding light.”

“Like a mommy?” Viktor asked, eyes wide. He pictured his mother as the morning star, protecting him from the darkness of the night.

“Precisely.” 

She stood, and helped Viktor off of the bed. She lit a candle and held the handle of the holder, then extended her hand to him. Viktor took her fingers. They walked down the dimly lit hallways, which would be scary if Viktor's mother wasn't there to protect him. Her light guided the way, the threatening shadows dispersing. 

She let go of his hand to open the door, and then took it again as the walked across the floor. She picked him up and laid him down in his bed, tenderly tucking him in. 

“I love you, my little star,” she told him, then kissed his forehead once more. Viktor hugged her. 

“I love you too, Mommy,” he murmured into her neck. She released him and smiled. 

“Goodnight, have sweet dreams.” She left, and the light of her candle faded away. Viktor curled up into his bed, falling into gentle, rhythmic dreams, like the ocean was rocking him back and forth.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was dead quiet in the palace. There were no soft, kind words from Viktor’s mother. No brush-strokes, like ocean waves lapping on the shore. No longer did the frightening echo of hacking coughs reverberate throughout the hallways of the palace. Even the birds outside the window had stopped chirping. 

There were only the hushed, murmuring voices of figures speaking to each other, and the broken sobs of Viktor’s father. And then there was Viktor, who didn’t fully understand what was happening. 

People kept saying that his mother was gone. But she was right there, although her skin was cold and her eyes were closed. She wasn’t gone. He tried and tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t open her eyes. 

“Mommy, Mommy!” he cried, hugging her limp form tightly. There was no response, no flicker in her eyelids, no rise and fall in her chest. “Mommy, stop it!” he wailed, and a scary doctor with big, rough hands pried him away.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Viktor sighed and stared longingly out the window, chin propped up on his hand. How he yearned to run through the fields and play in the river! But instead, he was stuck here with an open textbook whose words were blending together and were unintelligible. He simply could not focus after hours of forcing himself to read the dusty old volume. 

Viktor rather liked reading, but not when he was being forced to, and not when it was a soporific recount of the history of commerce within the nation. Who would even know if he made an escape? Certainly not his tutor, who was asleep on the sofa and probably would be for hours yet. The lush green hills and woods outside his window were so inviting, as if Mother Nature had her arms spread wide open. 

Viktor glanced at his snoring instructor before cautiously standing; the chair was so squeaky that he winced. He crept to the door and peeked out to see that the hallway was deserted, then started practically skipping along it. He hummed as he went, braid swinging behind him. 

He reached a rarely-used side exit and then entered it. The maids never cleaned in there; they didn’t see a point if it wasn’t in use. Huge spiders skittered along the staircase and hung in webs up above. Viktor prayed that none would drop down onto his head. The passage ended with an open doorway, and he hopped down from the last crumbling step and into the light. 

Viktor sneezed, and squinted in the brightness as his eyes adjusted. The sky was azure, and the scent of spring filled the air. With a breathless laugh of joy, he flung off his socks and boots and started to run. The wet grass was cool under his bare toes. His braid flew out behind him, and his heart pounded like his feet did as they slapped against the ground. He felt as free as a bird released from its gilded cage. 

Viktor entered the trees, the boughs casting dappled shadows nto him as he passed underneath. He slowed down so that the sticks on the ground wouldn’t hurt his feet. When he came to the stream, he climbed the maple tree that curved over it and dipped his toes into the icy flow. The water was from snowmelt, and it was still incredibly frigid. He shivered slightly, enjoying the cool sensation and the warmth from the sun streaming down through the trees. 

A shadow crossed over him, and he looked up to see a bullfinch landing on a branch of the maple tree. It perched there, cocking its head to the side. Viktor grinned at it, and it chirped down at him. They stared at each other for a second, before the bird stretched out its wings and darted away. 

Viktor leaned his head back and laughed, although he wasn’t quite sure why. His heart felt as light as a butterfly. Sighing in contentment, he swung his legs. 

“Viktor?!” he heard someone call, and he was so startled that he lost his balance and fell into the water. He sat there for a second, dazed. His tailbone hurt tremendously from the impact. His extremities were quickly becoming numb from the freezing water. 

Yakov, Viktor’s tutor, stormed into view, face scarlet. Viktor beamed up at him innocently. 

“Hello!” 

“Get up here!” Yakov roared. Teeth chattering, Viktor got to his feet. He rubbed his arms to try and generate some warmth, to no avail. 

“F-Fancy seeing you here!” he exclaimed. Yakov looked about to burst in rage. 

“Do you think you can just sneak away from your lessons all the time?!” 

Viktor shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. 

“Wait until an old man falls asleep and then run away,” Yakov grumbled, taking Viktor by the ear and dragging him along. 

“Ow, ow ow!” 

“What if your father had caught you? What would you have done?” 

Viktor reflected on this for a moment, finger on his chin. He thought of his father’s disapproving eyes.

“Probably fire you for falling asleep while you were supposed to be teaching me,” Viktor countered cheerfully. Yakov yanked his ear. “Hey!” He released it once they entered the passage. It took a moment for Viktor’s eyes to get used to the dark. They two of them climbed the stairs in silence, until Yakov sighed. 

“I know you won’t listen to me, but you need to start taking your lessons seriously! You’ll be tsar someday, whether you like it or not.” 

Viktor pouted, irritated. 

“What if I don’t want to be tsar? What if I want to be a scribe?”

Yakov laughed dryly. “You’d be miserable as a scribe.” 

Viktor had to admit that he had a point. 

“What about tending to animals or something?” 

Yakov scoffed. “You wouldn’t last a day.” 

Viktor frowned slightly. Yakov always underestimated him. 

They finished ascending the stairs and exited into the hall. Suddenly, Yakov froze. Viktor warily shifted his gaze in the direction Yakov was looking, and his heart nearly stopped. There stood his father, with his arms folded ashe coldly stared down at them. Viktor could feel his eyes sweeping over him, taking in the soaking clothes, wet hair, flushed face, and missing shoes. 

The harsh lines on the tsar’s weathered face hardened. 

“Went for a swim, did we?” 

Viktor laughed nervously, and Yakov glared at him. 

We were just learning about the great flooding of ‘47!” Viktor flimsily excused. Is father quirked an eyebrow. 

“‘49.” 

Viktor gulped, giving his best guiltless face. 

“Right.” 

“Hm.” His father’s eyes slid over to Yakov. “Might I remind you that it would be no trouble to find a replacement for you,” he threatened smoothly. Yakov set his jaw. “And you,” the tsar directed his attention towards Viktor. “The next time you try and avoid your responsibilities, I’ll lock you up so that you can’t. You’re fourteen, one would assume that you would have learned some self-discipline by now.”

Fear pumped through Viktor’s veins. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be confined somewhere, not being able to go outside and being nearly completely alone. It would drive him insane. 

“And no dinner for you tonight.” 

Viktor bowed his head. “Yes, father.” 

With a wry, cruel half-smile, the tsar finished with, “That’s better,” then whirled around and strode off. 

Viktor’s shoulders sagged the second he was gone, his heart still racing.


	2. Sunflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's father locks Viktor away in a tower.

By the age of sixteen, Viktor had become adept at avoiding his father. He knew all of his regular routines, all of his frequently-traversed paths. Yakov (who was still employed) was losing hair everyday due to Viktor's carefree nature. 

“You must act more responsibly!” he berated constantly. Viktor tried, he really did. But even being confined to a tower over minor infractions and having a moaning stomach weren't enough to extinguish the fire of yearning within him. This wasn't the life that he was meant to be leading. He was supposed to go out there and- 

He had no idea. But invisible forces constantly tugged at his soul, strumming his heartstrings like a harp. 

It was incredibly lonely up in the tower. He thought the hours he spent in solitude would drive him insane. There was nothing to do besides bookwork and lying around.

Viktor ended up spending many nights stargazing. His mother’s words still resonated within him, even so many years later. How she called him her little star. He would occasionally picture soaring up into the dark heavens, swimming through the ocean of the sky amongst the sleeping little stars with his silver hair billowing around him. There he encountered his mother, glowing like an angel.   
Viktor thought about it as he slept sometimes. They were blissful dreams, but he always woke up crying and feeling a great sense of loss. 

When he was drying his hair in the cool night air, he would look up at the canvas of the firmament outside his window and see the morning star. He imagined that it was his mother, and he would feel better. 

Brushing and braiding was second nature to him now; he didn't even have to think about the action. He still had his mother's old red hair ribbon, now tattered and faded like his memory of her. He couldn't clearly picture her face anymore, unless he looked at her painting on the walls. Even then, he wasn't sure if he was recalling what she looked like, or what her portrait looked like. 

Viktor wore the ribbon every day to try and remember his mother. Ghosts of her tender brushing echoed in his ears and tingled in his scalp, and he closed his eyes to try and keep the feeling as long as he could. 

His hair was nearly the same length as his mother's, hanging down to the tops of his thighs in a wavy, silky curtain. It guarded him from the world like a silver shield. Yakov thought his mane was “extravagant, unnecessary, and vain;” Viktor thought his assessment was hilarious.

Yakov visited him when he got locked up in the tower, bringing him both reading materials he thought he would enjoy, textbooks he knew he wouldn't enjoy, paper to draw on, and food when no meal was sent. He came and taught Viktor his lessons, and sometimes just talked to him.

Viktor was extremely grateful for his gruff kindness. It gave him the strength to keep going on. One day, Yakov brought him the greatest gift he'd ever received. It was a big, fluffy dog to help Viktor cope with his loneliness. He fell in love with her at first sight, and christened her Makkachin. She loved to snuggle with him, and her soft, curly fur and warm body provided great comfort. 

It seemed that Makkachin could tell when Viktor was feeling down, and she did her best to cheer him up by licking his face and barking excitedly so that he’d play with her. She usually helped to raise his spirits. Viktor couldn’t help but smile when she looked at him with those big brown eyes, imploring for treats and affection. She had simple goals, simple happiness. Viktor almost wished that he still had that innocence, and no obligations. 

Eventually, Viktor’s father stopped giving him permission to leave the tower. Servants transported all of his belongings up to the tower. It was final, like a jury delivering their verdict. The door remained locked save for when Yakov came up or when people brought meals. 

Viktor’s life was dreadfully dull, doing the same routine every day. He memorized how many stones the walls were constructed of, and how many spiders had taken up residence in the nooks and crannies (there were far too many for Viktor’s liking).

The days dragged by without his feet touching the grass or the earth, without standing beneath the trees, without running through the fields… He could see a huge swathe of sunflowers from his window, and yearned to run through them, their blooms far above his head and the light shining through their golden petals. But it wasn’t to be so. 

At first, Viktor thought that he must deserve all of this. He was a rebellious prince that couldn’t follow orders or seem to remember all the information he was supposed to retain. But as time passed, he gained a higher understanding. He would ask Yakov questions about his father and his past, and was able to piece things together. 

Yakov had been the apprentice of Viktor’s father’s tutor. When Viktor’s father was young, he’d also neglected his princely duties in order to take rides on his favorite mare through the glens and rolling hills. 

“They were as close as a boy and his horse could be,” Yakov explained. “But your father never listened to what his father instructed him to do, either.” Viktor paid close attention to what Yakov was saying for once. “When your father missed an important event, your grandfather took his dear horse to the slaughterhouse.” 

Viktor shivered and hugged Makkachin tightly. 

“He hung her head on the wall opposite to the door of your father’s study,” Yakov said, a tinge of sadness in his gruff voice. “He never went out riding again.” 

Viktor blinked a tear away and looked down at the ground. It was so terrible… But… it still didn’t excuse his father’s treatment of him. Reservedly, Viktor gave a small, tight smile. 

Even with this new information, he wasn’t sure that he could ever forgive his father.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes, Yakov would bring his new apprentice with him. Viktor found him very amusing. The apprentice found Viktor very aggravating. He would slump on the couch next to Yakov, scowling with his arms folded. His name was Yuri, and it was quite obvious that he didn't wish to be there, and that Yakov had forced him to come with. 

Viktor had no clue why Yakov made Yuri join him. Perhaps it was to teach him how to socialize? If that was the goal, then the lesson was certainly failing. It quickly became apparent that Yuri had an even shorter attention span than Viktor did. He constantly looked over at the clock, Viktor observed. He'd stare up at the ceiling and kick his feet. 

He never entered the conversation, only punctuated his silence with dramatic groans and complaints of, “Can we go now?” Yakov would shoot him a glare, and Yuri would glare right back in defiance. Viktor watched their intentions with a smile on his face. 

One time he let a giggle slip, and the both of them whipped around at the exact same time. 

“What?” they demanded in unison. 

“Nothing, just that you two are so similar.” 

“We are not!” Yuri stood up and yelled, offended. 

“If you say so,” Viktor replied. Yuri plopped back down and glowered at Viktor, who grinned back. It was all too funny. 

Yuri was really rude and disrespectful, but the little brat was growing on Viktor. He came to affectionately call Yuri “Little Leopard,” which Yuri pretended to detest (Viktor suspected that he actually did like it). 

Viktor found that he had some envy in his heart for Yuri. He knew that it wasn't very good of him, but he couldn't help it. Yuri was free. When he wasn't otherwise engaged, he was playing in the fields and woods. Sometimes Viktor could spot Yuri from his window, sprinting up hills or climbing trees. Just like Viktor used to do. But those days were long past. 

Now Viktor was nearly an adult, and wasting away in this prison cell. He would happily give up his riches, his title, his inheritance (assuming his father would even leave anything for him) in an instant for even a chance of getting to live his own life. He didn’t care what he was doing as long as it could be what he chose to do. 

As the months passed by, Viktor grew more and more certain that if the opportunity arose he would escape this life.

~~~~~~~~~~~

On Viktor’s twenty-first birthday he got out an apple that he’d saved and ate it al. He savored every single crisp sour-sweet bite. He would’ve shared with Makkachin, but he didn’t know if it would make her sick. However, he did give Makkachin a scrap of dried meat, which she scarfed down eagerly. 

Viktor was now officially an adult but he felt no different. Nothing had changed besides his age. His daily routine progressed as usual, with nothing out of the ordinary. He bathed in frigid water and washed his hair, then cleaned Makkachin as well. 

Shivering, he built up a fire in the hearth. The flames cast a flickering, golden light on the walls, reminding him of those times so long ago that he’d stared into the fireplace as his mom sung him songs and braided his hair. 

Viktor laid down on the rug in front of it. He was on his back, and his hair spilled around him. He held up a book that Yakov had recently brought him, and read it with great enthusiasm. Makkachin snuggled up against him, and he petted her absentmindedly. She shuffled and licked his cheek, and he giggled. 

Viktor's stomach grumbled. Either the maid was late, or he wasn't getting fed today. Sighing, he flipped a page. He loved the sound that the paper made, like rustling leaves. He could still hear the real thing if he opened his window and a gust was blowing through the forest down below. 

If there wasn't wind, he could try and use the charm his mother taught him. It made the wind blow through, but it didn't really work if his heart wasn't into it. But even if he spoke the magic words and the spell worked, it wasn't the same as actually being beneath the trees. 

Suddenly, he heard the click of a lock. He sat up quickly, and Makkachin scampered over to the door, wagging her tail. Viktor slowly rose to his feet, feeling a bit faint. The door opened, and a vaguely familiar manservant’s face appeared. He leaned down and petted Makkachin’s head, but there was a grim expression on his face. 

“Prince Viktor.” He bowed deeply. Viktor returned the bow, slightly embarrassed that he was still wearing his nightgown. “The king has requested that you come down immediately.” 

“Oh!” Viktor's lips parted in surprise. This was highly unexpected. ‘Maybe,’ he dared to think, ‘I'm being accepted back.’ He would no longer be a pariah. His father would treat him kindly. He would be allowed to go outside- 

“Take anything that you wish to keep. You will not be returning.” 

“What?” All of Viktor's naive visions came crashing down around him. But a sliver of hope remained. “But could I not just come back and retrieve things later?” 

The servant wouldn't meet his eyes. “No. Take anything you want to keep. Pack light.” 

Heart beating quickly in dread, Viktor dug out his satchel and began stuffing his favorite clothes into it. They barely fit, but Viktor also managed to cram in his brush, most loved books, and a few other possessions. 

His gaze swept over the room one last time. He knew in his heart that he would never see it again. Even though the time he'd spent there had been torturous, he still felt sad at leaving. He’d gotten used to this way of life, and the future was full of the unknown. 

Viktor checked to make sure that his mother's ribbon was secured tightly at the end of his braid, then pulled his bag over his shoulder and whistled to Makkachin.

“Come on, girl. Let's go.” Makkachin plodded along beside him, and together they left the only room that Viktor had seen the inside of in years. The foreboding feeling in the pit of Viktor's stomach felt heavier with every step he took as he descended the creaky wooden stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! For day 2 of yoi fantasy week.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like this! ^~^ I've been wanting to write this for a while. More tomorrow (hopefully)! Comments encourage me to keep going.
> 
> Art by eclair!! Give her some love, she's one of the sweetest people ever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] Red Ribbon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12726024) by [thisiseclair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiseclair/pseuds/thisiseclair)




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